


Battleflag

by skadventuretime



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, Feel-good, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Makeup, SoMa Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skadventuretime/pseuds/skadventuretime
Summary: When planning for the traditional end-of-the-year prank war went awry, Soul found himself in the perfect position to get information that would allow the boys an easy victory. But true connections have a way of eating through even the strongest of masks, and Soul must decide what he'll do once he's given the most precious gift of all: trust.





	1. Your construction smells of corruption

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is certainly happening. Here is my offering for Soma Week 2017 - I hope you enjoy! Many thanks to Sillytwinstars for eyes on the first chapter.

The next time he saw Blaine, he’d wring his bulging neck until the only way that hair dyed monstrosity would enjoy his cool ranch doritos was through a straw.

Crammed into some girl’s closet on the very much off-limits ladies-only hall above his own, Soul had nothing better to do than relish increasingly violent thoughts about what he was going to do to his roommate for getting him into this mess. 

It’d be a harmless recon mission, Blaine said. Just gather some info about the upcoming end of the year prank battle that _the girls would totally leave out in the open like fucking morons_ , god -- why didn’t he listen to his gut, say no way Brose, and just third wheel Blaine’s gooey date night? But no, he _had_ to take one for the team, _had_ to prove his brommitment to the cause, _had_ to get himself trapped in the girls’ hall with no backup escape plan. 

Soul was sure he’d have more time, since he knew that this girl stayed out later on Tuesdays and Thursdays for taekwondo club, but they must have let out early tonight because he’d only just begun to carefully open one of the desk drawers when there were voices on the other side of the door. He’d only had a moment to scurry as quietly as he could to the small sliding door closet before they entered, so here he was, wedged between what felt like the hilt of a wooden katana and a bag full of beanie babies. 

Taekwondo girl was visible through the narrow slit in the closet door, and she was talking to someone -- her roommate? -- about breakfast plans or something equally banal. He waited, hoping they’d leave to brush their teeth or put on face masks or whatever it was they did before bed, until his legs began to burn from the awkward position he was holding and he fought back a fifth sneeze. Didn’t these girls _dust?_

Things seemed hopeful when the other girl, who had short blond hair and a small nose piercing, left the room, but then _this_ girl shrugged out of her jacket and raised her hands to begin undoing the buttons of her blouse and _no no no no_ , he did _not_ sign up for this. 

In a desperate attempt to look away from The Nudening in front of him, he shifted his weight onto his other foot and set in motion the first stage of the ludicrous Rube Goldberg machine that was his life. Somehow the simple act of adjusting his feet nudged a box he couldn’t see, and suddenly something fuzzy and plastic feeling hit the side of his face. Then, right in his ear, a voice: _Hey boo loo loo._

There was just enough light from the crack in the door for Soul to realize, with abject horror, that a Furby had fallen onto his face. With a shriek high enough to shatter glass, he batted it away and leaped from the closet, nameless girl be damned. There were some things less holy than spying on someone changing, however unintended, and Furbies were one of them.

The girl hardly missed a beat when she grabbed him by the wrist, twisted an arm behind his back, and shoved him to the ground, but all things considered Soul thought he was better off out here. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said, tone calm despite the obvious affront at having a man flee her closet like he was shot out of a canon.

“Who the hell still has a Furby? What is this, 1999?” 

She pushed his face farther into the close-cropped carpet. “That’s not an answer.” 

“I--” His options were limited. Either he spit out the truth and damned his entire floor, his compatribros, to certain annihilation in the prank war, or he came up with something nuanced and convincing to smooth-talk his way out of this. 

A smudge near the corner of her eye reminded him of hours spent painstakingly applying eyeliner during his scene phase and -- _that’s it._ “I was actually hoping to talk to you. You see--” he paused to suck in a deep breath as if he were hesitant to continue-- “I was hoping you’d be able to give me makeup tips. I see you with your perfect wings around campus all the time, and, well, the guys already laugh at me for my hair and teeth, so I didn’t want them to see me in the bathroom with mascara on.” He risked a tentative glance at her face with just the right amount of nervous chagrin and a small, rueful smile. Maybe the acting classes his parents insisted he take in high school would pay off after all. 

For a few seconds, Soul wasn’t sure it was going to work. But then she released his wrist, tugged him back to his feet, and, in a very surprising turn of events, pulled him into the tightest hug he’d ever received. “Of course I’ll help you!” she said fiercely, stepping back. “We won’t let anyone judge you for what you want to wear or put on your face. Hold on one moment - I’m going to convene the girls.”

The way she said ‘The Girls’ brought forth a new wave of nervousness about what exactly he was getting himself into, but it was too late for regret and definitely too early for relief. She took a few steps towards the door before spinning around with a gentleness in her green eyes that was at odds with the dull ache forming in the wrist she’d grabbed. “I’m Maka, by the way.” Her outstretched hand looked like a relic from another era, because what kind of self-respecting college student _shook hands_ in greeting when they could just wave awkwardly and avoid human contact altogether, but he found himself taking it anyway. 

“Soul.” 

Her grip was firm and her smile open in a frank, direct way that did something strange to his chest, but before he could do more than give her a lopsided grin in return, her roommate burst into the room towing a taller girl behind her.

“Maka, I brought Sissy for our mini Tea Party! Tsu and Kim said they couldn’t come ‘til tomorrow--oh, a boy! Hello Random Boy!”

Maka directed her smile to the newcomers and Soul noted it took on a more relaxed, affectionate slant than the one he’d received. “Patty, Liz, this is Soul. We, ah, just met, and he’ll be spending more time with us from now on.”

The shorter one, who Soul now recognized from his time in the closet, stood to attention and gave him a cheeky salute. “Nice to meetcha! I’m Patty, Maka’s roomie. Liz is my older sister, but she joins us for Tea Parties still because she has a lot of smarts about this kinda stuff.”

Liz gave him a cool once-over, deep blue eyes calculating, and Soul got the distinct impression that she did not trust him one bit. Perhaps it was time to add some depth to this charade. 

“Hi, I’m Soul. Like I was just telling Maka, me and the other guys don’t really get along.” He shrugged, letting some of the very real uneasiness he was feeling bleed into his expression. “I used to wear a ton of eyeliner and stuff and I wanted to do that again, but the way the guys are here, well, I don’t exactly feel _safe_ , you know?” He took a breath and looked at Liz, hoping she’d notice the (also very real) fear in his eyes. Sure, it was fear of being discovered and single-handedly ruining the boys’ chances at winning this prank war, but Wes used to tell him that the best lies were truths pointed in the wrong direction. 

Something like compassion flickered behind Liz’s eyes and she stepped forward to clap a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry man, we’re here for you. We won’t judge you for being you.” 

“Right!” Patty chirped, moving past them to set a bag down on the lower bunk. “You’re welcome to join our Tea Parties as long as you pinky promise not to tell anyone outside of this room what happens in ‘em.” 

“Tea party?” Soul asked, tilting his head at Maka because some instinct told him that she was the leader here. 

She looked at him consideringly for a moment before turning to open a drawer and pulling out a small sewing kit, a leather folder, and a first aid kit.

Liz glanced at Maka, eyes wide. “You’re really gonna offer him The Pledge? We just met him, are you sure..?” She trailed off, the unspoken _he’s trustworthy?_ hanging heavy between them. 

Maka smiled, different from all the other ones he’s seen so far -- this was quiet and sure and a little bit hard, and it reminded him of his mother’s kitchen knives glittering on the counter after being sharpened. “He has kind eyes. I think we can trust him.”

That stirred something in Soul’s chest that had been buried for many years. Kids used to make fun of him for his unusual eye color and sharp teeth, calling him a demon or a monster or _diseased_ , and he learned early on not to make eye contact until he could stammer out what he hoped was a polite enough greeting that they wouldn’t immediately walk away. Upon reflection, Maka hadn’t even blanched when she finally got a good look at him. Even Mr. Prim and Proper Morty Jr., or Kid, had looked at him askance when Blaine first brought him over for the night.

There wasn’t time to think about this further, though, because Maka was looking at him again and Soul had a feeling something big was about to happen.

“Do you want to join our weekly Tea Parties? They’re where we talk about confidential business, life things, and generally support each other in our goals. You do have to make a Pledge, first, before joining. Think of it as a small token of your willingness to put some of yourself into the team.” 

He looked at everyone’s faces, Patty beaming and Liz carefully neutral and Maka unreadable in the most frustrating way, because he’d gotten this far making friends by being very good at reading what people wanted to hear, and he couldn’t discern what kind of answer she wanted from him. But it sounded like this ‘tea party’ would be a great way to get the kind of info he was supposed to be gathering anyway, so with what he hoped was the right amount of genuine gratitude in his eyes, he said, “Thank you very much. Yeah, I’d like that a lot. What do I have to do?” 

Maka undid the sewing kit and pulled out a needle along with an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit. “We’re going to add a drop of your blood to the Sisterhood Map, which, well, now that I think about it, probably needs to be renamed.” She opened the leatherbound folder and pulled out a folded map of the world, which she carefully opened on her desk and held down with a mug of old tea and a heavy textbook.

“The way this works is I’ll prick your finger and you’ll put a drop of blood on where in the world you think you want to make a difference after school. We think it’s important to have goals, and the whole blood thing makes it feel more important, you know?” 

While she opened the alcohol pack to sterilize the needle, he thought about where he would place his drop since he didn’t really have any plans after college. More to kill time than anything else, he asked, “Where did you put yours, Maka?” 

She tugged him closer to the map and gestured for his pointer finger, shaking her head as he held out his hand. “Can’t say. Nothing’s supposed to influence this but your own feelings.” 

Using the wipe on the pad of his finger also, she pricked it neatly and smiled in sympathy when Soul winced a little. “Everything worthwhile hurts a little at some point, right?”

“Right.” Under closer inspection, he could see a few dots scattered around Tokyo, Paris, New York, Portland, and Los Angeles. Still unsure about what his future actually held, he found Death City on the map and pressed the small bead of blood between the small black dot marking their college town and another smaller, more faded drop of blood. Task completed, Maka brushed his finger with an alcohol wipe and then wrapped it an Adventure Time bandaid.

She blinked when she saw the fresh blood of his decision drying on the map, and looked at him with another unreadable expression. 

“Don’t forget the pinky promise!” Patty said from where she rested on the top bunk, stroking that damn Furby and reclined on a throne of stuffed animals with Christmas lights threaded through the bed frame. 

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Maka held out her hand in a fist with her pinky finger uncurled. Soul mirrored her, expecting her to say something when their pinkies were twined, but it was Liz who spoke. 

“Do you promise not to talk about anything that happens at these Tea Parties, mini or official or otherwise, with anyone not present at them and to hold all sensitive personal information in confidence?”

“I do,” Soul said, feeling vaguely embarrassed looking into Maka’s eyes while their hands were intertwined saying _I do_ , but that seemed to be enough for her when she leaned her hand forward so the pads of their thumbs touched. 

“You have to lock it,” she explained when he jumped slightly at the contact, and then released his hand. “Congratulations and welcome to our Tea Parties! There’s just an informal one tonight before the official one tomorrow, so how about we get started with some eyeliner 101?” 

“Uh, sure,” Soul said, his lie already half-forgotten after the strange map ritual. As he settled awkwardly at Maka’s desk while she dug out her makeup bag, Liz made a comment about his gorgeous lashes and something about mascara, and before he knew it both girls were taking turns hovering in front of him to apply various layers of eye makeup. While trying very hard not to blink while looking at the ceiling as directed, Soul wondered how he’d even _begin_ to explain his night to Blaine. 

/

“So what I’m hearing is you’re part of some blood cult Sisterhood of the Travelling Eyeliner?” Blaine said, twirling a pen between his fingers while he ostensibly waited for more inspiration to add to the army of dicks littering the margins of his trigonometry notes. 

Soul paused by the kitchen sink where he was scrubbing at his face with a dish towel, putting aside his dismay at _how fucking hard it was_ to get makeup off in favor of giving Blaine the flattest look possible. “No, what you’re _hearing_ is I have a capital-I _In_ to all of the girls’ plans. They invited me to their weekly tea parties or something where they plan shit.”

Blaine leaned back in his chair and let out a hearty guffaw. “Okay Mrs. Nesbit, whatever you say. As far as I can tell, all you have an in to is tea, crumpets, and spa nights.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see tomorrow, won’t we?” Soul glanced down at the smudged dish towel and then turned to Blaine. “Did I get it all?” 

Blaine heaved a very put-upon sigh before closing his notebook and gesturing to Soul to come along. “Rule number one, bro: baby oil is the universal makeup remover.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Soul said as Blaine led him to his room and pulled out a small bottle of the stuff from the chaotic morass that was the space beneath his bed.

“You know how into Rocky Horror Show Kid is? Well, I sure as hell didn’t want his makeup all over my face _or_ my 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, so I did some research. The internet is a magical place, my dude.” 

Soul took the proffered bottle and poured a little into the dish towel he was still carrying. “Right, because god forbid you get any unwanted liquids on your sheets.”

Blaine shot him a wicked grin. “Trust me bro, the rest of it was _very_ wanted.”

If Soul hadn’t had a face full of dish towel, Blaine would have seen his eyes roll back into their sockets with the force of his scoff. 

“Don’t be jealous, man. Go get yourself a nice guy or gal or whatever the fuck it is you’re into.” 

Soul sighed beneath the towel. “I’m not _into_ anything, we’ve been through this.” He remembers the first time he told Blaine about he doesn’t get that ‘tingly feeling in your dick-heart’ when he looked at anyone, no matter how objectively or aesthetically attractive. Blaine was convinced he just needed to keep looking, that eventually he’d find someone (or some _thing_ , which usually ended with Soul’s elbow in his stomach) that would make him feel somehow different than normal. 

He’d come to terms with being on the outside of snickering bro talks about pussy and boobs and ass, and he was usually fine with Blaine’s periodic comments about his lack of a sex drive. Something about tonight, though, seemed off in a way he couldn’t define, and he wondered for the first time in a while what it might be like to feel that pull everyone talked about. 

“Yeah, yeah. More booty for me.” Blaine’s tone signaled the end of _that_ conversation, and Soul peeked out from under the now very smudged dish towel to look at his much cleaner reflection in one of Blaine’s four full-length mirrors. 

“Huh, this stuff does work.”

“Told ya. Anyway, how about this: you go to that tea party or whatever, and if it seems like it’s a useful way to get info, you keep going. Yanno, like a mole. Or--” he paused to look at Soul in that eyebrow waggling manner that immediately triggered a deep-sigh response in Soul -- “a _brole_ , eh? Eh?” 

Soul just shoved the baby oil back at Blaine and kept walking, turning only when something hit the back of his head. “Hey, what the fuck--”

“Keep it. If you’re gonna be getting all girlified on the reg, you’re gonna need it,” Blaine chuckled before giving Soul the peace sign and belly-flopping into bed. 

Soul stared down at the baby oil in his hands, remembering how delicately Maka had applied the eyeliner and how surprisingly rough her fingers were when they’d rested on his cheekbones. Shaking his head, he tossed the bottle in the air and caught it again as he walked to his own room, thinking of ways he could begin to ask them about their prank plans.


	2. Hey, I just met you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with Soma Week Day 2, late as expected. Day three will be a few weeks coming, so don't wait up, but it _will_ happen! Many thanks to Sillytwinstars and Professor_Maka for eyes on this chapter.

“Would you pass the shortcake, Soul?” 

Wedged between Liz and a veritable mountain of stuffed animals, Soul reached into the middle of the circle to grab a plate with tiny strawberry shortcakes and pass it to Maka under the neck of a human-size giraffe plushie. 

“All right,” Maka said once she took a dainty bite. “Madame Chairman, I move that we begin this Tea Party.”

Patty nodded sagely from across the circle. “Is there a second?”

“Second,” Liz said from her right, sipping oolong from a mug that said ‘There’s a chance this is gin.’ 

“It is moved and seconded that the Tea Party begins! Raise your hand if you wanna bring up a piece of business.” 

A girl with bubblegum pink hair raised her hand. “I’d like to discuss our investment portfolio.” 

With a nod from Patty, the girl - he was pretty sure Maka had whispered that her name was Kim - launched into a discussion involving economics and finance far above his ken. After her, Liz discussed the Fine Arts budget and how to best modify professors’ curricula to accommodate current skill levels in the program before Tsubaki gave a very professional report on the state of post-graduation employment rates. The only reason Soul knew Tsubaki’s name was because Blaine had a _very_ large crush on her, spending many a night composing what he called ‘bronnets’ until he happened to walk behind the music building one day and interrupt what he later called an ‘intense game of tonsil hockey’ between her and Liz. 

Soul sat there, dumbfounded. Beyoncé was right - girls _do_ run the world. 

After another fifteen minutes or so of what they called business, Maka surveyed the room and said, “I move that we adjourn.”

Patty, sitting with that accursed Furby on her shoulder, said, “Is there a second?” before raising her tea cup to its plastic beak and cooing something at it in Furbish. 

“I second,” said a girl with straight black hair and a prim expression sitting next to Kim.

“All in favor?” Patty asked, stroking the Furby.

Everyone’s hand in the room shot up in unison. 

“All opposed?”

Silence.

“All righty! The ayes have it and the motion carries. We’ll meet again in two weeks, schedule TBD. Now let’s enjoy these delicious snacks!” Patty banged a squeaky toy hammer onto her knees, and then relaxed conversation broke out around the circle as a few of the girls began passing each other cookies and refilling their mugs with one of the various teas from the five kettles lining Maka’s desk. 

Soul glanced at the small groups chatting nearby, and was just thinking about whether he should insert himself into one of their conversations when something nudged his back. He twisted around to see Maka smiling down at him with her makeup bag in one hand and what looked like some kind of fancy cupcake in the other. 

“Ready for more practice?” she said, good-naturedly nudging her way next to him without dropping the bag or the cupcake.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he replied, internally sighing at all the laundry he was going to have to do after taking this stuff off with a dish towel every night. 

Maka took a small bite of her cupcake first -- was that molten chocolate and whipped cream on the inside? -- and then pulled out an eyeliner pen, the type Soul remembered her preferring over pencils for whatever reason. “Okay, I’ll demonstrate again on one eye, and then you try the other. The main goal is to not let the eyeliner feel your fear,” she said with a wry grin before leaning in.

It took a few minutes for Soul to get used to Maka touching his face so much -- resting her palm here, pulling his bottom lid taut there -- but soon he fell into a sort of hazy half-awareness because there was something vaguely comforting about someone else taking care of him. It reminded him of when he and Wes would take turns rubbing each other’s arms to fall asleep during summer camp when Soul was anxious about new places, or how his mother used to fuss over his hair before recitals. 

“Hey, Soul, it’s your turn.”

Maka’s voice dragged him back to the present and he sat up a bit straighter. “Right, okay, what do I do again?”

She held up a small pocket mirror she must have dug out of her bag while he was spacing out and said, “Okay, first things first, you want to apply any eye shadow you may want before getting to the eyeliner itself. I’m not sure whether that’s something of interest to you, but that’s the hierarchy. Eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara.”

Soul nodded, wondering if he’d need to endure that, too.

“All right. Try using the eyeliner pen to trace as close to your eyelashes as you can.”

She handed the liquid liner to him, and he mentally grimaced when he felt its familiar weight. Taking a deep breath, he turned his face towards the mirror to get a better angle and applied the liner in a few deft strokes -- apparently the muscle memory was just as strong as it had been in high school when he’d wake up an hour early to straighten his bangs, put on some eyeliner, and take a few disaffected selfies to edit on Myspace before class.

Maka looked impressed when he lowered his hand and turned for her inspection. “Great job. It’s easy to see you’ve done this before. But --” she took the pen from his hand -- “still no wings. Let me show you how that’s done.” 

Soul could feel her breath on his face as she leaned back in, noticing she had a faint line of freckles along the bridge of her nose before she ordered him to look up. The eyeliner brush was cool along the side of his eye, and he found himself relaxing under her firm touch until it occurred to him that he should be figuring out how to steer the conversation towards hall pranks.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time for finals,” he began, almost losing his train of thought entirely when he saw how _fierce_ the wings she gave him were. “I have so much to prepare for.”

“Oh, are you worried about any classes?” Maka looked up from putting away the liner and mirror, though she had a small container of something in her hand. “I’m a tutor and I’d be happy to help you study.”

“How much do you know about economics?” he asked, half because he thought that was something outside her major so he could begin getting at her prank plans, and half because he _was_ having a rough time in that class.

“Micro, macro, natural resource..?” she replied, handing him the small container she’d fished out of her bag and scooting closer to him.

“Uh, macro,” he said, wondering what on earth he was supposed to be doing with this plastic container of what looked like a rounded lump of beige clay. 

“Oh yeah, I can help you there. I took a few econ courses over the summer because I had time between Orientation Planning Executive Committee duties I wanted to fill.”

“Time to fill,” he repeated, impressed. OPEC was a full-time job over the summer working with university staff to plan and run the school’s new student orientation program, and it required not only a time commitment to the overall planning aspect, but also summer orientation days along with the weeklong pre-start of the semester orientation. Fitting classes into it was not something most people could manage.

“Maybe we can start meeting after these makeup lessons for some schoolwork. You’re always welcome to hang out in my room if you’d like - it’s probably a quieter environment than wherever you do work, unless you go to the library.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like that,” he said, figuring more time getting to know her couldn’t hurt. His hands hadn’t stopped fidgeting since Maka started adjusting his makeup, so more to get whatever restless energy he was channeling out of his system than anything else, he opened the container she’d given him. Thinking it looked vaguely like dry foundation, he began to rub some onto his nose.

“Wait, what are you doing?” 

“Hm?” He turned to her mid-reapplication, wondering what on Earth could make her look so simultaneously horrified and amused. 

“That’s actually -- well, you don’t use that there. Um, that’s highlighter,” she finished as if that cleared it all up, but at his blank expression, she continued, “You uh, you don’t want to highlight your nostrils.” And then she _did_ start laughing, rich, unbroken peals that were tinged with an endearing wheeze before she caught her breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh at you, but I’ve just never seen somebody highlighting their nose before. Here, let me show you where it goes.” 

Swiping the pads of her fingers over the clay-like lump, Maka skated them over his cheekbones, in the corners of his eyes, and right above his lips. “There,” she said, leaning back. “It’s mostly an optional thing if you want to add a little brightness to your features.”

Soul checked his reflection and wow, she was right - the bags under his eyes weren’t nearly so pronounced and it almost looked like he was _perky_. “Huh, I didn’t even know that stuff existed. Thanks.” 

“Anytime.” There was a small buzz and then a loud burst of yelling and what sounded like some sort of brass instrument coming from her pocket, and when she pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen, the glow from her laughing fit drained away. “Hey, I have to go, but how about you meet me at the library tomorrow and we can get started on some of those assignments?”

“No problem,” he said to the back of her head as she rushed out of the room. 

Patty frowned and looked at Liz, who gave a slow half-shrug and leaned over to whisper something in Tsubaki’s ear. Tsubaki nodded and, after giving Liz a quick peck on the lips, followed Maka out.

“Is everything okay?” Soul asked Patty, his hands tapping a nervous staccato on the sides of his thighs as he got up and joined them by what was left of the snack pile. 

“It will be. Tsu’ll figure out what’s what, and we’ll be here for her when she gets back. I’m gonna go start brewing her favorite tea and get Mr. Ungrump ready for some de-stressing cuddles.” Patty hopped up and took down a few small bottles of what looked like essential oils from her dresser before rummaging through the giant stuffed animal pile, stopping only when she found an admittedly adorable octopus plushie with an ice cream cone on its head. After putting a couple drops of lavender and peppermint oil on the plushie, she rested it on Maka’s pillow and skipped out of the room to fill the kettle.

“She’ll be all right. You don’t have to wait up,” Liz said, standing and dusting off the back of her jeans. “We’ll see you later, yeah?”

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Soul nodded and grabbed his bag from where it lay nestled between a penguin pillow pet and a large Totoro plushie. He shared a commiserating smile with Jackie on his way out, though Kim just gave him a blank look and laced her fingers through Jackie’s with more than a little protective distrust. Looks like he still had to do some work to gain people’s trust. 

Seeing everyone so concerned for Maka made him feel a little bit better about leaving, though - despite only having known her for a few days, there was a refreshing frankness to her that both drew him in and made him envious. It was the same kind of effortless ability to win people over that Wes had, something Soul had always struggled to emulate. But he recognized the emotional shutdown he saw in her eyes all too well, and sincerely hoped that whatever it was that caused that reaction was dealt with soon.

All further thoughts about Maka, however, were promptly forgotten when he opened the door to his apartment and saw Blaine chasing Kid around the kitchen wearing a sombrero, a jockstrap, and nothing else.

Soul checked his phone and, with a muffled groan, saw that it was Tuesday. 

Taco Tuesday. 

“Yo, Soul. Get over here and help me convince Kid meat tastes better without pants.”

With an exasperated sigh, Kid raised the spice-covered wooden spoon in his hand and brought it down with a satisfying thwack onto the center of Blaine’s bare stomach. “No shirt--” another whack, this time along his legs -- “no shoes--” he spun Blaine around to land a final blow on one of his bare buttcheeks -- “ _no service._ Go put some clothes on, you brute.” 

Blaine ran a finger along the wet mark of spiced meat juice on his stomach and then stuck it in his mouth, making appreciative noises in the back of his throat. “Tastes great babe,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen. “Perfect amount of heat.” 

Kid rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was backlit by an easy kind of affection that made Soul smile, too. They were happy, despite or maybe even because of Blaine’s antics, and it was comforting in a weird way to know that happiness could be found in someone else. 

“So how are you doing, Soul?” Kid asked, moving back to the sink to wash the now-sullied spoon. “Blaine was telling me about some sort of insider plan regarding the prank war? Nice eyes, by the way.” 

“Yeah, and thanks?” Soul put his bag down near the door and kicked off his faded converse, not batting an eye at the growing pile of horse masks and shaving cream that had appeared over the last few days. “I’m working on being friendly enough with them to hear about their prank plans. Hopefully that’ll be sometime soon - this stuff is a bitch to take off every night.” 

Kid nodded and gave what was cooking in the pot a final stir before turning off the burner. “Well, I’d be happy to help you with makeup removal tips, if you’d like. Dinner’s ready now, though. Would you mind setting the table and taking out the tortillas from the oven when the timer rings? I’m going to see what’s taking Blaine so long to find a shirt - Lord knows he’s stolen enough of mine.” 

While Kid marched into Blaine’s room, Soul shoved aside the ‘artistic’ creation Blaine had dubbed the Leaning Tower of Penis that was taking up half of the dining room table before putting down plates, cutlery, and folding paper napkins ‘that fancy shmancy way’ Blaine liked. The timer rang then, so Soul hurried over to take the warmed tortillas out of the oven.

Kid walked into the room right as Soul set the tortillas on the counter, just the slightest bit tousled but smug all the same, followed by a blessedly dressed and grinning Blaine. 

“All righty, let’s eat - I’m famished,” Blaine said, grabbing his plate from the table and walking over to the stove to avail himself of both the meat and the add-ons Kid had laid out so neatly on the counter.

“You’re always famished,” Kid said, eyeing the mountain of taco meat his boyfriend heaped onto his plate with an expression between awe and distaste. 

“You try being the MVP of the wrestling team,” Blaine shot back, loading his first taco with obscene amounts of sour cream and guacamole. “I spend all day showing these kids the meaning of godlike while you’re out there pencil-pushing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Soul shared a warm but exasperated glance with Kid before tucking into his own taco that contained a much more reasonable amount of toppings. 

They made short work of their food and moved to their usual clean up roles -- Blaine doing dishes, Soul drying, and Kid putting everything away. Before long, Blaine was nestled next to Kid on the couch with his laptop on his knees while Kid pulled out his glasses and propped a textbook on the couch’s armrest. 

They looked so cozy there, so _right_ , that Soul didn’t want to break the comfortable tableau with his perpetual scowl. He went back to the door to grab his shoes and his bag and quietly left the apartment, but not before seeing Kid lower his head onto Blaine’s and close his eyes.

/

Once outside, Soul let himself drift. He had nowhere to be and nothing to do, and while he knew that he could have hung out with Kid and Blaine, it felt like he was intruding on something precious. So instead, he ended up heading towards the campus water feature, a mini oasis in what was usually rather punishing heat. It was a popular meeting spot during the day but often barren at night, so Soul was surprised to see it wasn’t completely deserted. 

Surprise turned to a vague unease as he saw that it was Maka there, sitting alone and trailing her fingers through the water. He froze, unsure if his presence would be wanted, when she looked up and met his gaze beneath the accent lights. 

“Oh, hey Soul,” she said, straightening and giving him a brittle smile. With a twinge, he saw in painful detail how she hid a deep breath when she turned towards him, how she blinked just a few too many times, how her smile, though genuine, couldn’t quite cover up the hurt in her eyes. 

Masks aren’t always easy to put on. 

“Hey.” Soul came to sit beside her on the edge of the fountain, noticing the tired set of her shoulders while she stared into the water. When she remained silent, he said, “So uh, you okay? Seemed like something came up earlier.” 

She flashed that pretty smile, the put-together, steady expression that had doubtless thrown many people off her trail before, and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got some bad news, but it isn’t a big deal. It’ll work out.” 

Maybe he felt bad for her being alone out here, or maybe it was because seeing her hide her pain the same way he did made something in his chest ache, but he found himself saying, “I know you don’t know me too well, but if there’s something on your mind, I’d be happy to listen.”

She hesitated, looking him in the eyes with a kind of desperate hope that only sharpened the pain in his chest, and then sighed. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be okay, really. I’m just trying to figure out how I’ll get to the mall tomorrow.”

“Mall?”

Maka grimaced. “I was supposed to go with someone tomorrow, but they bailed on me. Graduation is coming up, remember? We need formal clothing for the dinner afterwards and right now I don’t have anything that fits the bill. Liz and Patty are also going to look for things, but Liz has a motorcycle so I won’t fit on there, too.”

Soul perked up. “Oh, you need a ride? Speaking of motorcycles, I could take you on mine if it’s after my music class tomorrow afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you--”

“No really, it’d be fine. I have to grab some things there anyway,” Soul lied. If he was surprised at how far he was willing to go to get her to the mall, he shoved it away in favor of satisfying this sudden urge to do what he could to make her feel better.

“Well…” Maka paused again, but this time when she looked at him there was that fire in her eyes he remembered from their first meeting. “All right, that would be wonderful. Here.” She pulled her phone out and looked at him expectantly. “Let's exchange numbers in case your class holds you late or something.”

“Sure,” he said, tamping down the weird surging emotion in his stomach from sharing numbers. 

“There,” she said once she sent him an introductory text. “Want to meet me outside of my room tomorrow around four?”

“Works for me.”

With a final glance at the water, Maka stood up and dusted herself off. “Well, I guess I’d better head back to make a list of everything I’ll need. Are you heading back, too?”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna stay here a little longer,” he said, pulling a notebook out of his bag. “Got things to write.”

“Write?”

Soul scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, we have to write a song for my music final. There are only a few weeks left of the semester, so. No time like the present, right?” 

“Right. And if you ever want an ear for what you’re working on, I’d be happy to be your practice audience.” She smiled, and Soul was relieved to see it reflected in her eyes. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.” 

He watched her head back the way he’d come and then looked down at his blank notebook page, pensive. It was a bit too early for him to comfortably head back to the apartment, and he still hadn’t gotten much information out of Maka or any of the girls about what they were planning for the end of the year prank war. Tradition held that it happened the night before graduation, and with finals set just a week before they were supposed to walk, there was a lot of work to do. Perhaps spending a little time on his song would jumpstart his brain about how to get more info from the girls.

Sighing, Soul pulled out a pen and let his mind wander, trying to find the space between daydreaming and awareness that usually provided him with the inspiration he needed for music. Instead of the usual strands of melody, though, he was nearly swept away by impressions of black light on clear water and a poignant sense of longing. 

His eyes flew open, heart racing, and there was a terrifying moment where it seemed like everything in the world was spinning on its own axis. It felt like the chords to the song he wanted were just out of reach, taunting him, and he scribbled a few starting bars before the inherent sense of _wrongness_ made him scratch them all out. He tried to attain that focused state again but it was laughably out of reach, so he threw his notebook into his bag and strode back towards the apartment.

His final could wait another day. It was time to battle plan.


End file.
